


Heartbeat of Lothal

by Twilek_Mech (feeding_geese)



Category: Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-05-05 02:38:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14607450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feeding_geese/pseuds/Twilek_Mech
Summary: Rheeah Jarrus has a legacy to uphold, a planet to protect, and a junker to fix.





	Heartbeat of Lothal

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to our Badass Lady Jedi Club!  
> shesasurvivor & I started plotting up these fics after I was turned on to Rebels (RIP) and she told me the stories she used to write as a teen based on the Expanded Universe (also RIP). It started as a fun project between the two of us—we’re old expats from THG community who wanted to stretch our writing muscles again. But as we watched male writers continue to dominate the Star Wars franchise and as the character deaths kept racking up, we both longed for for a return to high-risk but low-stakes Star Wars. That is, plenty of adventure without everyone having to nobly sacrifice themselves in the name of real-world edginess. Finally, she said “Hell, we should just write it.”  
> So here’s what you can expect from us:
> 
> Semi-regular updates maybe? We both work, we both have lives, and we’re both nit picky when it comes to our writing, so sometimes it takes us a while to get the ball rolling. But we want these stories to feel more like a series and less like a movie, so expect drops to be more episodic in nature with some fun filler episodes!
> 
> Kids of Canon Characters. Okay first of all there was Jaina and Jacen Solo, Ben Skywalker, then Ben Solo and (the hastily plotted) Jacen Syndulla, so stop with the Mary Sue business right there! But aside from loving the canon characters, we want to explore what it really means to be a Legacy Jedi. In the Old Republic, Force-sensitive children rarely knew their parents. We want to explore the weight of being the child of rebellion heroes and Jedi in ways the old EU might have missed. 
> 
> More mash-ups than a season two episode of glee. We’re grabbing from everything here. This is a story where Han lives, Jaina Solo trained with Poe Dameron, Jyn Erso ran a spy op with Sabine Wren. We’re combining “canon” and “legends” into something new we hope you’ll enjoy. 
> 
> Badass lady Jedi. The boys have had more than their shot. It’s Ladies Night every night on Ahch-To. 
> 
> Sabers up, ladies.

Rheeah had been futzing with an old speeder when the ship flew in low over the farm. Her uncle had pulled up on his junker bike an hour before, but hadn’t said anything about bringing company. She powered down her headphones and squinted to make out the craft, brushing her pale green headtails back behind her shoulders. She fumbled about for her macrobinoculars, raised them to piercing blue eyes to get a closer look. It was a small quadjumper that had seen its fair share of action, judging by the carbon scoring. Still, it handled well, evidence of either a good system or a better pilot. She didn’t see any of the usual smuggler clan markings and it had been moons since there had been any bounty hunters in the area. It might’ve been a drop or some good intel. Now and then her folks would pick up a bounty, especially if the mark had old imperial ties. The kinds of people who delivered those missives usually didn’t make house calls, though. The ship shuddered as it touched down. As a precaution, she pulled back into a shadow, one hand resting on her blaster and the other barely touching the silent alarm that put the farm on lockdown, and waited.  
The back of the ship lurched open before the ramp hit the ground with a clattering thud. Bolts skittered across the landing pad. Definitely a better pilot. Two figures emerged clad entirely in dark grey down to the boots. Their armor was light, flexible, good in a fight. It was also cobbled together from pieces from about a half dozen worlds, like the duo belonged together but had never really settled on a uniform. A DL-18 hung low off the right hip of one, a tall, imposing figure made of muscle, and the left of the other, slightly shorter and lean. Their faces were hidden by old modded imperial scout helmets with long fangs painted up the sides in a menacing grin.  
“Cham!” She shouted, darting out of hiding and throwing herself at the larger man tromping down the ramp. He raised his arms high as she clung to his middle.  
“Ease off!” His laughter sounded like static through the mask’s filter as he pulled it off, shaking out his lekku. “Let a man breathe!” He looked better than the last time she had seen him, but his nose hadn’t set right and wasn’t as straight as it had been when they were kids. At least his jaw was in the right place.  
“Where’s my warm welcome?” The second had his helmet off already, resting on his satchel. He wore a similar face to his brother without being completely identical. His was thinner, more symmetrical, and infinitely more punchable in Rheeah’s mind. She raised her chin and crossed her arms.  
“Ephraim,” she nodded curtly.  
“Still?”  
“Still,” She hissed through gritted teeth. It was a matter of honor. “You owe me an apology.”  
“Just apologize,” Cham sighed.  
“I don’t apologize for things I didn’t do! And I certainly don’t apologize for things you couldn’t do, Little Sister.” The emphasis on “little” was particularly harsh. At twenty-four she was hardly a baby. When Cham said it, it was endearing. Coming from Ephraim, it was always a knock at her height.  
“If you weren’t in such a rush to leave—“  
“But we were. And you couldn’t get the job done. So I called in someone who could. You should be grateful! He let you watch! That’s a free internship!” Cham pinched his brow.  
“Give her the peace offering, will you?” Rhee quirked one of the sharp brows all three shared and tried to look disinterested.  
“What sort of peace offering?” Ephraim tossed her the satchel. It rattled when she caught it and her eyes lit up at the mound of data disks inside. Usually it was just one or two.  
“That’s everything that’s popular in the Core right now, Little Sister.” Ephraim tried not to be delighted by the look on her face while she tried not to gush over the sheer volume of music now in her possession.  
“Ephraim went to a lot of trouble to get those,” Cham prodded, always the peacemaker. He must have. Her brothers rarely ventured past the Middle Rim planets. She straightened her spine and crossed over to Ephraim with an air of cool dignity. She rolled her eyes before embracing him with a grin. She’d always love him, even when she wanted to gut him.  
“Where’d you pick up this one?” Mother was already assessing their newest acquisition from the doorway, wincing at the damage and trying not to imagine the dogfight that caused it. Rhee thought that her eyes looked more tired than usual, her chin not held as high. Her mother was a strong woman who had somehow managed to beat back aging with a stick. Today she looked old. She didn’t seem surprised to see her sons, which was odd. They never telegraphed their movements.  
“Tatooine,” Cham kissed her cheek. His brother planted one on the other cheek.  
“We decided to liberate it while we were liberating some of Skigha’s workforce.”

In their teens, the twins had spent a good deal of time with their grandfather on Ryloth. Given their energy, quick wits, and eagerness for a fight, his people took them on a slew of operations to rescue Twi’lek who had been captured and sold into slavery. By the time democracy or bribery had failed, the boys had slipped in, freed the slaves, and in most cases done considerable property damage. Their parents tried to be horrified, but pride won out. They were doing good work, albeit not in the most legal sense. In any case it was far more than the Senate was doing.  
The New Republic was better than Imperial rule, but by and large people, especially on the Outer Rim, fell through the cracks. Pleas to break up slavery rings fell on the deaf ears of the Senate, who offered only condolences, and their mother felt a keen sense of betrayal towards the Republic her sacrifices had help build. Their far more cynical father tried to look surprised. It didn’t take either of them long to help their sons establish an independent crew devoted to helping those the Senate felt it didn’t have time for. Aside from breaking up slaving rings, the twins swindled and stole from the best of the worst, redistributing supplies, ships, and credits where they were sorely needed. They also had a tendency to blow things up, including two ships owned by a prominent senator known to fund the spice trade. The New Republic bounty angered their mother even more. Father was insulted by the low figure. Now solidly in their thirties, the twins had a reputation in the Rim bigger than any clan of smugglers, bounty hunters, or general rogues. Calling themselves the Wraiths, they cultivated an almost myth-like status of sweeping in and out of systems like shadows, leaving destruction and empty safes in their wake. Their aunt had painted helmets in the guise of beasts for them all to add to the mystery. In an almost flagrant nod to their heritage, both boys were loth-wolves. 

“I’m proud of you both.” Mother’s smile didn’t last. “Did you bring what you were so worried about?” Cham reached into his tunic and held up a disk. “Let’s have a look,” she sighed, then turned to Rhee, who was set to crawl under the ship. “You too, sweetheart. We might have some big decisions up ahead.” A pit settled in Rhee’s stomach as she followed them inside. 

Father and her uncle looked like they had been expecting her brothers as well. There was no surprise on their faces at all, which only worried her further.  
“How do they look, Ezra?” Father stood to greet them warmly.  
“Too much like their dad,” her uncle clapped Cham on the back, “but otherwise okay. There’s a lack of black eyes, so I’m guessing they’ve been taking a vacation.”  
“Lots of recon these days, Uncle Ezra,” Cham settled into a chair around the low table.  
“But we found the time to blow a hole in one of Talon Kaarde’s pleasure ships,” said Ephraim from the pantry.  
“Kaarde’s all right,” Father argued. “Mostly.”  
“Well then next time he’ll mostly remember to pay us,” Ephraim tossed a jogon to his brother. Father’s laughter died. He paused for a moment before turning to his daughter.  
“What’s the matter, Rheeah?” She hadn’t said a word. Then again, she never had to. According to her father, she emitted a tiny shockwave whenever she was nervous, a little ripple in the Force. Usually he was the only one to notice, but now, with all eyes on her, she took a deep breath and let it all out.  
“Everybody knew Cham and Ephraim were coming. No one ever knows when they’re coming. Cham’s worried about something and it’s the First Order, isn’t it? It’s all the back channels are talking about, it’s getting bigger and more dangerous and—Mother said big decisions—what are those supposed to be? I’m not ready to defend an entire planet from Star Destroyers and TIEs and—I’ve never even fired a blaster at anything bigger than a speeder!” She paused for a breath to keep from passing out.  
“Hey, it’s okay,” Uncle Ezra tried to reassure her. “No one’s going to war.” Mother wrapped an arm around her shoulder. It was meant to be comforting, but Rhee could feel the tension in her body as they sat. 

“She’s not wrong, though,” Cham slid the disk into the projector and started cycling through charts. “Word throughout the Rim has an increased presence of First Order ships in several systems, still no known base of operations. No one’s gotten close enough for schematics, but so far it’s been TIEs and shuttles,” he flipped to long distance images of ships in orbit or in various docking bays. “No confirmed destroyers, but it’s hard to imagine them this wide spread without at least a carrier. Dalluma said she spotted two off of Pheryon, but take that intel with a heavy dose of skepticism.”  
“She’s a nut,” Emphraim said through a mouthful of meiloorun.  
“She’s seen a lot,” Cham corrected before moving on. “Local intel suggests they’re still scouting for old Imperial factories, but here’s where it gets interesting.” He cycled to the next image. “There’s a Knight of Ren with them.”  
“Karabast,” her parents and uncle swore in unison. 

They didn’t seem to hunt Jedi the way the Inquisitors once had, but they certainly weren’t allies of any sort. The Jedi Council’s official stance labeled them a fringe group. A cult of dark-side worshippers with little to no real organization and even less training. Rhee’s father thought they were all Academy dropouts the Council had failed to wrangle. In his opinion, which he would share whether you asked him to or not, Skywalker’s academy had created a problem it couldn’t solve and was now trying to actively ignore it. One day it would blow up in everyone’s faces. A Knight of Ren spotted with a First Order garrison was all the confirmation he needed that the Jedi Academy was a risky bust. 

“What’s the play, Hera?” Father said at last.  
“Well Sith Lords aren’t usually good news,” she mused.  
“I’m not sure they’re Sith,” Uncle Ezra interjected. “At least not like we knew them. If anything, they’re apprentices, but I don’t know of any surviving masters.” The Knights were a point of contention between her father and uncle, who had actually taught at the Academy for a few cycles and had taken lessons from the Jedi who gathered there before returning to Lothal for good. Years later, it still rankled his Master. He had a complicated history with large organizations of Jedi—it was always a good deal until it wasn’t and strong as Skywalker was, he knew nothing of the old Council and its failings. Father tried to give his apprentice the benefit of the doubt, but he’d always remain the biggest skeptic of whatever Skywalker was trying to do.  
“It’s a big galaxy,” Father ran a hand through his graying hair. “And untrained doesn’t mean they’re less dangerous, just more unpredictable.”  
“Do you think the Senate knows they’re out this far?” Rhee asked quietly, her eyes glued to the holo of the man in the black cloak and mask.  
“Forget the Senate,” Ephraim scoffed. “I want to know what the Resistance plans to do about it.”  
“Do any of you still have any of your old Rebellion connections?” asked Cham.  
“None of us have spoken in years,” Mother sighed. “I don’t even know where they’re based or who’s involved. And even if we did manage to contact them there’s no guarantee they could do anything.”  
“They could do more than the six of us,” said Ephraim.  
“We built a rebel cell with just two,” Father countered. Their old C1 unit whirred angrily. “Three,” he corrected.  
“Plus it isn’t just the six of us.” Mother stood with resolve. “I’m calling everyone in. This isn’t a decision for just part of the family.” She grabbed her data pad and began scrolling through contacts.  
“So that’s a few rotations out, assuming they can even leave right away,” Father stood and gathered his hair in a quick top knot, which always meant work. “Do a pack up, Rheeah. We’ll head out to the temple in thirty.” The pit started to form again. She was on edge and Father’s solution to jangled nerves was always meditation. She was meant to be soul-searching but it quickly became hours of her internally rehashing the many ways in which she wasn’t strong enough.  
“No temple.” Her mother’s stern voice shook her out of the already evolving shame spiral. Mother’s face softened. “The boys just came home. And I know Rhee’s dying to crawl under that hunk of scrap they fell in on—“  
“Hey!” Ephraim clutched his chest. “I landed that tin can beautifully!”  
“Yes you did, Dear,” Mother smiled. “Give her a break, Kanan. The First Order isn’t knocking on our door just yet.” 

Rhee heaved a sigh of relief as she picked through her toolbox. It had been moons since she’d seen her brothers, but they weren’t going anywhere soon. She grabbed her headphones and her reliable fix-it mix and slid under the jumper. There would be plenty of time to hear all about wherever the boys had been. In truth, she wasn’t all that keen to know. Other systems sounded fine, she certainly loved their music, but she never understood why anyone would want to leave Lothal. After all, her parents had been all over the galaxy, but Lothal was the only planet that really called to them. Literally, in Father’s case. 

After the Empire fell, her mother turned down a cushy position in the New Republic. She had done her duty to the rebellion and then some. The man who would become Rheeah’s father had been protecting Lothal from within its temple, and she was going back for him. 

Rhee remembered sitting outside the massive stone doorway as a child, coming back to the farm only when her mother called out for meals. Sometimes she wouldn’t see her father for weeks as he sat deep within its hidden walls with her uncle, becoming one with the planet. He always looked tired for a man who had just been sitting, but he’d lay out in the tall grass with his wife and children and Rhee would feel a sense of great peace flow from him. Father never took on any students besides herself and Uncle Ezra, his first padawan. He had no interest in seeking out other Force users. She knew how to levitate, to push, to pry into the thoughts of others—her uncle taught her that one. Her combat skills were satisfactory, but she hoped never to need them. The Force wasn’t as strong with her brothers. They could do rudimentary levitations and some low-level mind probing, but it didn’t much bother them. Cham and Ephraim had always felt the pull to adventure. They took every opportunity to bounce around the Outer Rim with any relative who would take them. At the age of ten, Rheeah knew her purpose was on Lothal, in her father and uncle’s place once they passed, guarding the temple and the planet connected to it. 

“How did they get this out of orbit?” She muttered, shifting her head to the side moments before a line burst, flooding the ground with coolant. Rhee bit off a curse and rolled out, fishing for her comlink. “Hey, Chop? Can you give me a hand out here? And bring the haz vac, will you?” The droid beeped over the com. Moments later he rolled out to meet her, the vac dragging behind him by the hose. “Thanks, pal,” she laughed, patting his top. Chopper was loyal to her mother first and Rhee second; everyone else in the galaxy she assumed he just tolerated. He was particularly fond of harassing Uncle Ezra, a practice Mother claimed went back decades. If asked, he would watch after the boys when they were kids. “Watching over” usually involved chasing them out of wherever they weren’t supposed to be with his taser. But when she was small, he would let Rhee ride around on top of him for hours. Now he was as good an assistant as a mechanic could ask for. “Do me a favor and run a diagnostic while I clean this up.” Chopper clicked and beeped as he rolled up the janky ramp. “I don’t care what Ephraim says he wants,” she shouted over the whir of the vac. “Let’s get it off the ground in one piece, then we can start talking about guns!” From inside the ship she heard the mech’s stutter of a laugh. 

The return on the diagnostic was fantastically grim. Half a dozen burst lines, a busted nav, and a hyperdrive that fried when they dropped out of hyperspace, not to mention all the minor repairs. Even if she could find all the parts she needed in the Scrap, that bucket wasn’t moving for at least a standard month. Plenty of time to spend with her brothers. Plenty of distractions from the First Order and her own failings. Underneath a ship, she was the master. 

 

The sun was low before she had a finalized list a mile long. Mother’s voice buzzed over the com calling them both in for supper. She slid her headphones back onto their charging dock, pocketed her data pad and her mix disk, and set the workshop to lock down for the night.  
“Good work today, buddy,” she smiled. Chopper rocked back and forth in delight.  
“You smell like grease,” Father grinned, pulling out the bowls.  
“I look like it too,” Rhee sighed. “I’m gonna stand under the sonic till the harvest.”  
By the time she was clean and had changed, everyone was already eating. There was no standing on ceremony at the farm, a throwback to their rebellion days when you ate when you were able. Rhee remembered her parents trying to set a formal dinner hour once. After a week of everyone eating in silence and staring at the walls when they were done, Mother declared a free for all. “Old scoundrels aren’t meant for domestics,” she had laughed.  
Rhee grabbed a bowl and dug into the pot in the middle of the table, dropping in on the conversation.  
“Sabine has some ends to tie up, but she’ll stock up and head out in the next few rotations. Ezra, she says if you want to see her you have to do something about your face.” Uncle shot Mother an incredulous look.  
“I am cultivating a serious mountain hermit look here!” He honestly had been. Usually he looked like a clean shaven version of his master, his black hair cropped close on the sides with the long top pulled back into a knot, but he’d been growing a patchy beard for the past cycle and a half. He had garnered a local reputation for being a loony who hung out with stray packs of loth-cats, which wasn’t necessarily untrue.  
“I agree that you look like a deranged lunatic who lives in rocks.”  
“Thank you,” he scratched at his jaw, an air of disappointment tinging his eyes. Rhee knew if Aunt Sabine was coming in, the beard would be gone soon.  
“Zeb’s going to be a bit longer, but he wanted it known that he’s in for anything.” Father reached for the pot again.  
“Have we figured out what ‘anything’ is going to look like?”  
“I may have an idea or three,” Mother grinned, and Rheeah realized she looked much more at ease than she did when the boys flew in. “I’m letting them stew.” Cham tore a hunk of bread off the loaf.  
“What’s the news on our latest acquisition?”  
“Is that what you’re calling it?” Uncle laughed. Rhee tossed the data pad across the table.  
“News is all those disks just turned from presents into payment. I’ll pick through the Scrap but I may have to order off-world. The dirtbag you stole it from—“  
“Liberated,” Ephraim chewed.  
“Made some very custom mods. Unless you’ve got the bird nearby, you’re marooned, Captain.” Cham shrugged.  
“We left it with Vix. Seemed like a good time for a thorough run down. Systems need calibrating and the sonic’s been out for a while.” That explained the smell. Rhee tapped her spoon impatiently on the table.  
“You leave your baby with Vix and bring me the garbage leftovers?” Cham put on that face that ensured she could never be mad at him.  
“We bring you the garbage leftovers so you can make them our new babies. The bird just needs minor tinkering, nothing fun.”  
“I still wish you’d take on a mechanic or at least a droid,” Mother sighed. She knew they had limped into a system far too many times because none of the crew knew anything past basic patchwork fixes. Twice they had called Rheeah while floating in deep space and she had to talk them through rebooting a hyperdrive or reattaching the steering.  
“Then we wouldn’t get to come home as much!” Cham kissed Mother’s cheek.  
“We haven’t been able to find a mechanic who enjoys being shot at as much as we do,” Ephraim grinned. 

The conversation shifted to the story of how the boys had come into the ship along with twenty-three now-ex slaves and about two thousand credits stashed in the cargo hold. Cham was detailing how he dislocated a gammorrean’s shoulder when Rhee felt Father’s hand fall on hers.  
“Come with me.”

She followed him in silence, feeling the cooling winds pull through her lekku, listening to the crunch of the drying tall grass. The farm faded far into the distance before he sank to the ground. Rheeah followed suit, folding her knees beneath her.  
“Father—“  
“Find your center,” he cut her off. She drew in a slow breath. Closed her eyes. Tried to let go of the cold air and the rustling of night creatures and focus within. It was easier to connect with the planet than connect to herself. She tried to envision a glowing core inside her and focus on the light until the outside world slipped away. But tonight she couldn’t get past Lothal. Every sound was calling her. “Okay. What’s got you riled?”  
“First Order’s burning through the Rim and now they’ve got Knights of Ren with them. Eventually they’re going to get here.”  
“Maybe,” he mused, far too casually for Rhee’s comfort. “If they do, we’ll be ready for them.” There it was again. That parental confidence that she wouldn’t choke when she was fully up against it.  
“You’ll be ready for them. If it was all up to me, I couldn’t...”  
“For starters, it’s not all up to you. Whatever happens, we’ll be there. All of us. And you’re being too hard on yourself. You’ve got a connection to this planet, Rheeah. You feel things Ezra and I can’t. Reach out—let it guide you.”

She put one hand to the ground. The earth pulsed gently against her fingertips, a dull, percussive thud. The heartbeat of Lothal. It had been a constant in her life as long as she could remember. As a child it confused her that her masters, far stronger with both the Force and the planet, could press their fingers into the dirt and feel nothing. She pushed out further with her feelings, letting the planet pull her focus in a hundred directions at once, flooding her senses. She took in the smell of the night and the moisture in the air. The sound of loth-cats stalking prey and the shine of the moon against the rocks. Wind rushing through grass and the sense of peace she felt as a child. She knew there was no better place in the galaxy. She knew she would do anything to protect it.  
“What if I can’t be what Lothal asks of me?” It was her greatest fear. There was never a time when she was terrified at the thought of sacrifice, even as a child. It was the enormity of her father’s shadow, the inability to fulfill the planet’s needs, that kept her up in the darkness. Her nightmares were often plagued by loth-wolves who saw the inadequacy within her. “Will I be able to protect it when the time comes? ” He was silent for a long time. Searching. As a master he wasn’t one to dole out empty platitudes.  
“Your path is unclear.” She heard the smile in his voice. “We’re too connected. I can't separate your worries from my own. Then again, the Force doesn’t always let us see what’s up ahead. We just have to trust in our own destiny.” She opened her eyes and he was standing before her, hand outstretched.  
“You’re worried?” She asked, brushing grass off her bottom.  
“Of course. I was worried the first time you made a solo supply run. Your father will always worry. But your master knows how strong you’ve become.” She slipped her arm around his middle and he swung his around her shoulders as they walked back.  
“I’ve been reading the Old Texts,” she said as the first lights from the farm came into view. “No attachments, no marriage, no families—you’ve broken almost all the tenants.” Father laughed.  
“It’s not like I’m the only one!” There was a brief pause, but he changed the subject before she could fill it. “There are lessons the old masters can teach us and ones that...well, they never made sense to me. No attachments when we’re all connected by the Force? It’s just...I want you to learn from those texts, but don’t take them as dogma. The galaxy is far more complicated than the old masters led us to believe. I want you to form your own opinions.”  
“Is that why you didn’t send me to the Academy?”  
“Part of it. I also wanted you to have the family I didn’t.”  
“And you don’t trust Skywalker.” Father gave a half-hearted shrug.  
“I don’t trust that many egos in one place. It was the downfall of the old order and the new one doesn’t look that much smarter. I’d rather you weren’t in the middle of it.” He flicked the end of her headtail with a grin. “After the Clone Wars I’ve never come across a problem that needed more than three Jedi to solve it. And maybe a few concussion grenades.”

The main room was empty when they got back aside from Ephraim passed out on the couch, snoring. She could hear Uncle Ezra and Cham laughing out back. Mother was probably off making one of her many lists.  
“No temple tomorrow, but sabers at sun-up.” Father tried to make it sound casual, but it had been a while since he’d had her practice combat. He must’ve heard her small intake of breath. “It’ll be good for your concentration. Help you let go of some of that anxiety, too.” The normal joy had returned to his grey eyes and she felt less worried. He cupped her face in his hands so he could see her. Her father had memories of her mother’s face, along with her uncles and aunt and even their astromech. But he’d never seen any of his children, not with his eyes. He knew the shape of her face, could sense her emotions, but every now and then he would put his thumbs to her cheeks, her brow, the ridge of the straight nose they shared, to really look at her. She let him feel a smile and his mouth echoed hers.  
“Goodnight, Father,” she placed a kiss to his palm. He returned it to her forehead.  
“Get some sleep, kid.”

She slid the top drawer of her workbench out slowly, trying to remember the last time she’d even opened it. She blew off the fine layer of dust and oiled up a rag. She wiped down the hilt and the trigger. Her eyes fluttered closed. Focusing, she could see the minuscule pins and let her mind slowly tighten them. One click. Two clicks. The blaster was the easy part. Part of her always wanted to stare down the barrel, but she still had the childhood fear that she’d accidentally ignite it. You never want to be staring down the barrel of anything. Mother told her that when she was two.  
Her fingers fiddled with the switch to ignite it. She was going to be rusty. If it was more than form, if it was an actual lesson, Father was going to knock her on her shebs. Repeatedly. Maybe he’d have her face off with Uncle Ezra, who would also knock her on her shebs. Repeatedly. They were the saviors of Lothal and she was a pretty good mechanic with a Jedi bloodline and a laser sword. She dropped the saber on the stool and flopped face first onto her bunk. The knock came soon after.  
“Come in,” she mumbled into the pillow. The door slid open.  
“Good meditation, huh?” She shrugged at the mattress as Uncle Ezra picked the saber up and took a seat, turning it over in his hands. “I still can’t believe you made this.” Rhee rolled over so she could talk to the ceiling instead.  
“I still can’t believe you gave yours up.” The first time Rhee heard her uncle talk about the first lightsaber he ever built, she was in love. She badgered him endlessly for specs and sketches which she saved for the day she would be worthy enough. When the temple gifted her with a crystal, the family didn’t see her for weeks. The day she finally emerged, she showed Uncle Ezra her handiwork before anyone else, desperate for his approval. It was the only time she had seen tears in his eyes.  
“Yeah, but this is a masterpiece, Rhee. Mine was so clunky. These lines and the grip...makes me sad that you don’t wear it anymore. A weapon like this deserves more respect than the drawer.” She glanced down at his own lightsaber, always worn proudly at his hip. Rhee found that hers always scraped the ground when she was crawling under a ship. She never wore it unless her father told her to.  
“A weapon like that deserves someone who can use it,” she muttered. “How am to going to be a Great Protector of Lothal if I’m freaked out by a couple of holos of bucketheads?” Uncle laid the saber down and leaned forward.  
“What did your dad say? The first time you heard that story in the marketplace?” Rhee swung her feet around to touch the floor.  
“There are no legends in war,” she sighed. “Only people who tried their best and lived and those who tried their best and died. Little harsh for a five year old.”  
“But it’s true. We did our part, and it was big and effective, but there were thousands of Protectors of Lothal. Flying missions, planting explosives, refusing imperial orders. Hell, just turning off imperial holos. Small acts of rebellion, but all serving a greater purpose. Lothal has a purpose for you and the planet won’t ask more than you can give.” She mulled it over, weighing how much could be the truth versus Uncle Ezra trying to talk her off a ledge.  
“Did Father send you in here?” He shook his head, smiling.  
“Intuition and eavesdropping.” He placed the lightsaber beside her. “Your path is going to be different from mine or your dad’s. And you’ll be ready for it, as long as you do what I didn’t.”  
“What didn’t you do?”  
“Listen to my master,” he sighed. “Open up about what I was feeling. Trust that I could trust our family. My path could’ve been so much smoother.”  
“What if your path wasn’t supposed to be smooth? What if mine is fated to be worse?”  
“What if you choke on a jogon pit and die?” He shrugged. “You can What-If yourself all you want. Some things are fated, some we can shape. Trust in yourself, trust in your training, and you’ll come out all right.” He pulled a purple fruit from his pocket. “Jogon?” She took it slowly, watching him as she took a big bite. Uncle Ezra’s lessons were always a little bizarre. As she swallowed she grabbed her throat and made horrible choking sounds, convulsing on the bed before dying in spectacular fashion. He laughed, getting up. “You’re gonna be okay, weirdo,” he patted her on the shoulder. Long after he had gone, Rheeah lay staring at the ceiling, wiping the sweet juice from her mouth with her thumb, wondering if maybe this time he was right.


End file.
